


A Bladebinder and his Rogue

by Pixelf



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Interesting NPCs Mod, M/M, Married Couple, No Plot/Plotless, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Romantic Fluff, Same-Sex Marriage
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-07
Updated: 2015-03-22
Packaged: 2018-03-11 00:06:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3308255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pixelf/pseuds/Pixelf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lucale is an awkward twat when it comes to love and Rumarin can only sit back and be amused by his antics.<br/>Sometimes it's the other way around.</p>
<p>Ratings could go up for future chapters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. He Came With Flowers

**Author's Note:**

> Introducing the fluffiest thing I've ever written here.

Rumarin raised a brow at the bunch of flowers being thrust at him. 

"And these are... what? My award for sweeping out the spider?" he said.

Lucale wouldn't look at him. He stared down at his scuffed up boots instead. The blue and red flowers were clutched firmly in his grip though they shook with his trembling. His hood hid his face from Rumarin's eyes though the High Elf knew well enough by now that his husband was biting his lip in an effort to think of something clever or charming. Rumarin folded his arms and smirked up at the young Imperial man. 

"They're pretty," Lucale said. 

"I'm glad you think so." 

Lucale's head snapped forwards to glare at the Altmer. 

"I thought you'd like them," he said, red rushing to his cheeks. 

"Why?" Rumarin drawled, barely containing the laughter bubbling up in his chest. 

Lucale shifted from one leg to the other. "Because you're pretty. Pretty people like pretty things." 

"What sound logic." 

"Are you taking the flowers or not?" Lucale hissed. 

Rumarin pursed his lips as though in thought and then smirked up at the younger man. "I'd much rather take you." 

The flowers were thrown into his face and Rumarin's fruity laugh echoed in the halls as Lucale stormed away, one hand firmly pulling down his hood in an effort to conceal his flushing cheeks. 


	2. As He Laid There

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On a writing spree, please forgive me.

He wasn't a cuddler. No. Rumarin didn't cuddle his partners. Draping your arm over their chest or behind their head did not count as cuddling. But Lucale clearly had different ideas. Almost every night he would curl up close, rest his head in the crook of the older man's neck and let his arm fall over his torso, then bend slightly so that the Imperial held the High Elf against him. Rumarin was usually much too tired to argue. 

Tonight however they both laid awake. Outside the world of Whiterun was quiet. There was only the distant rumble of thunder and the odd clatter of armour as guards walked to and from posts. All was pitch dark. The moon hid beneath blankets of dark cloud and the smell of rain hung heavy, even within the confines of their small room. They lay draped in furs, their bodies weary and tired from the day's journey. Lucale's body was peppered with new bruises and cuts but he hadn't complained at all, even though he had gotten them purely because Rumarin had set off the traps in the tomb. He was only too good to him. 

"Your hair's after growing so long," Lucale mumbled.

"Do you not like it, husband?" Rumarin asked. 

"It could get snagged onto things during a scuffle." 

Rumarin snorted. "You used to be a lot of fun. Married life has ruined you."

"We've been married for two weeks."

"And what an age it seems." 

Lucale snorted, his head lifting from the elf's chest so that he could face the smirk tugging at the corners of his husband's lips.

"If I bore you so much why don't you go on your own little adventure next time? Dance in blood, set fire to children, all the good stuff."

"As lovely as that sounds, I think not. It's much nicer when you lead. For one thing it means I get a nice view and another is that you end up carrying most of the heavy stuff. And I'm fragile so it works." 

Lucale rolled his eyes. His good one met Rumarin's while his bad one seemed to be stating off into the distance beneath a white, cloudy fog. It rather reminded Rumarin of the foam of a beer, but he doubted that Lucale would like him saying that. The elf's hand came to rest upon the cheek of the Imperial, his thumb ghosting over the scar that took up half of the young man's face. Lucale flinched at the contact but didn't whip his head away like he had done the first time. 

That was an improvement. 

"You're getting better," Rumarin mused. 

"I'm trying to, at least," Lucale said. 

And that was all he could really ask for, wasn't it? No-one was ever going to be able to completely heal the Imperial. What had been done to him was irreversible and would never fully go away. The guilt and the anger hung over him heavy like an armour. But he wasn't as bad as he used to be. Some pieces of the armour were falling off, broken. And he didn't seem to mind. 

 


End file.
